We never, ever skip church. Unless someone is really sick. Every once in a while, you’ve just had a rough week, and FEEL like doing nothing all day Sunday, you know? But we don’t do that. We’re churchgoin’ folk. But this was one of those weeks and yesterday was one of those days when we (at least I) really, really didn’t feel like leaving the house. But of course, the Sunday-morning machine was set into motion anyway and we were well on our way to getting out the door in our Sunday best when….
Ben started puking. Like a lot. And we noticed Claire has that rash AGAIN. (I’m not so sure it was chicken pox a few weeks ago, after all. We’re going to the doctor again tomorrow–a pediatrician this time.) So we decided it was best to stay home. Inside I was a little relieved. (I don’t think I’m supposed to admit this stuff, but I’m a compulsive truth-teller. It’s addictive.)
And it was a really nice day. Keith quite conveniently got to watch a live football game with the boys–and a good one–OU rocked! And I did a little laundry and worked on a very fun little pet project of mine that I haven’t had much time for lately, a Christmas gift for our extended family. We all took naps, ate leftovers from the fridge in preparation for Thanksgiving, had a nice time of family worship, and just relaxed the day away. It was a really good day.
So why do I still feel guilty for not going to church yesterday? And I think I feel guilty for feeling guilty, which is really weird. Hmmmm, I think I have guilt issues. Advice?